"So, what else have you got?"
It felt eerily familiar and yet strange to have a case discussion later that evening from the comforts of his hospital bed. Nonetheless, it was a step toward normality that Mike had longed for since the horrible encounter with Osorro back at the warehouse.
With his left hand still bandaged up and the blisters and sores on his back slowly healing, he'd managed to find a comfortable position in his fortress of pillows to settle in for a few minutes, while picking his partner's brain about their latest case.
"Bernie is still backed up. The only thing we have right now is male, late fifties, early sixties, some obvious fractures on his shoulder blade, upper arm and neck. Bernie says the one on his neck killed him. Lots of other old injuries too though. There's a little bit of soft tissue left but he wasn't sure if it would be enough for a viable tox screen. He said he'd let us know later on tomorrow."
"Mhm."
Running the fingers of his injured hand over his freshly shaven chin in nervous agitation, Mike glanced down at the beige linoleum floor as he let his mind wander to the cemetery.
"You know, that smells like a mob hit, Buddy Boy."
"I know…", Steve answered, although he detected a slight hesitation in the young Inspector's voice, "I thought about that too but the calls I have made into various…channels…have reported no recent mob issues. The Patrizi's have been pretty quiet, and so have the Santucci's. Doesn't mean we have all the intel but you'd think if bodies get buried we'd know about a rift."
"Well, don't put it past them, especially the Santucci's. They're big into organized gambling. This guy could be somebody who didn't make book? Or somebody trying to mess with the mob? Somebody scared enough that he didn't want to go to the police about it."
"Very true…", Steve admitted and he could hear him shift the receiver to the other ear, the faint noises of the Telex machine in the bullpen disrupting their quiet conversation, "I guess we need to wait for some more information from Bernie to trickle in before we start digging deeper. What do you make of the placement of the body right over De Haro's grave?"
"I thought about that too but I am not sure. Leadership of sorts? You might want to talk to Lenny about that one."
Mike heard a quiet knock behind him, as the stern-face nurse reminded him in no uncertain terms that it was time to get some rest and get off the phone.
"Listen ehm…I gotta let you go. Don't work too long tonight, you hear? I will see you tomorrow when I get discharged. Be here around 10AM."
"You bet.", came the jovial answer from the other line, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great night, Michael."
"You too, Buddy Boy."
Hanging up the phone with a quiet sigh, Mike carefully turned around to face the power-hungry head of the nursing staff that had been the proverbial finger in his back since he was transferred from ICU to the main floor, reiterating in no uncertain terms that he was here to rest and heal, not to conduct police business.
Part of him was beginning to consider hiring her into the parking enforcement patrols.
Raising his hands in defeat, he smiled as he watched her disconnect the phone and bring it back to the nurses' station, both of them longing for the next morning for completely different reasons.
